


Never Be Satisfied

by Origamidragons



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Dancing, Heartfelt Conversations, Multi, Shared Misery, The "We're not marrying Alex this sucks" Club, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 09:02:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8838562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Origamidragons/pseuds/Origamidragons
Summary: "You love him," Angelica said, thoughtful, and his head whipped back around to her so fast she thought he might sprain his neck. She would've expected to see something in his eyes at that proclamation: panic, or confusion, or anger, but there was nothing but dull sadness. 
"I won't tell," she added anyways, unnecessarily, and he stared at her for a moment longer before he gave a tiny nod, of agreement or admittance or gratitude, and they continued to dance.





	

"To your union... to the hope that you provide. May you always be satisfied." 

The words were ringing in Angelica's ears like a death sentence as she stood to the side of the ballroom, watching as Alexander and Eliza swept across the dance floor. Alexander seemed so deep in Eliza's eyes he almost tripped, and a bittersweet smile came to her lips unbidden. 

They would be happy. 

More couples slid out onto the floor, orbiting around the newlyweds in the center of the room, moving slowly and steadily in tune with the music. It was a beautiful scene, truly, and the giddy smile lighting her little sister's face made it all worth it. 

She was so absorbed that she almost startled when a voice behind her, slightly slurred with alcohol, spoke up. She whipped around, and it took her a moment more to place the face. Alexander's friend, that's right. The one who had announced her toast. Laurens. He'd looked happy. 

Angelica Schuyler was very good at seeing past the masks of men, but this one had slipped past when first she saw him. Now, he looked positively desolate, eyes big and suffering. 

"May I have this dance, m'lady?" he asked courteously, the confident smile from before sliding back into place like it was never gone, eyes still sorrowful. 

"You forget yourself, sir," she said, glancing away, very determinedly not meeting the same eyes she was certain were staring out of her own face. "T'would be improper." 

"I don't intend to court you, Miss Schuyler," he said, the bare spike of honesty in his voice. "I want..." he paused, swallowed quickly, twice, and she knew it was not a symptom of his drunkenness. "I want to know about Elizabeth. If she is worthy of him." 

Oh. 

Angelica nodded once, closed one hand over the wine glass he seemed to have forgotten he was still holding and set it aside before walking with him out onto the floor. 

"My sister," she began, her voice soft and low, "is the most kind, trusting, and loving person I have ever had to grace to meet. She loves your Alexander more than anything in this life." 

"I wish her luck," Laurens said drily. He was stumbling a little, certainly the alcohol weighing him down, but he was willing to let her lead and she kept them both more or less upright. "Hamilton is not an easy man to care for." 

And he knows, doesn't he. 

She knows, too. Not from firsthand experience, not like him, but from that frozen moment when she met her sister's helpless gaze across the room and two futures unrolled before her. 

One where she was happy, and one where Eliza was happy. It wasn't even a choice. 

Laurens was tossing wistful glances over his shoulder every now and then, towards Alexander and Eliza in their own private shining world in the middle of the room, seeing nothing but each other. 

"You love him," Angelica said, thoughtful, and his head whipped back around to her so fast she thought he might sprain his neck. She would've expected to see something in his eyes at that proclamation: panic, or confusion, or anger, but there was nothing but dull sadness. "I won't tell," she added anyways, unnecessarily, and he stares at her for a moment longer before he gives a tiny nod, of agreement or admittance or gratitude, and they continue to dance. 

"He will be happy with her?" he asked after a beat, as the song switched to something smooth and slow. 

"See for yourself," she murmured back, twirling around so he could see the bride and groom over her shoulder. They hadn't even noticed that the song had changed, still swaying gently to their own rhythm, and Laurens made a choked noise in the back of his throat. 

"I'm glad," he managed after they'd moved a few paces and the gap in the crowd was closed, hiding the couple from his sight once more. 

"I could have had him," she said conversationally after a moment, because she shouldn't be saying this but she somehow knows that if she doesn't say it now she'll never tell anyone and she'll be forever crushed under the weight of what could have been. "A more brilliant man I've never met, and... he treated me as an equal, not a weak lady in need of defending. More than I could have ever wished for in a husband. Three words, and that could have been me," she said, aching with wanting it. 

Laurens choked on a bitter laugh. "I never even had that chance." 

"If you had," Angelica asked curiously, "would you have taken it? I have thought on this much since that night, sir. Every night it plays again, and every night I swallow those three words and introduce the man I've fallen for to the sister I love more than breath." 

"You are better than I, then," Laurens said. "All the same, I would not envy your position." 

"Nor I yours," she answered honestly. She wondered what would be worse, to never have him at all or to have him and then lose him. "I'm happy for them," she decided after another slow beat. 

"Me too," he agreed, "but I still..." 

He trailed off, but it was fine. Angelica knew exactly what he meant to say. 

They fell into a companionable silence as the evening slipped by unnoticed, as the sun vanished behind the horizon and the color leached from the sky. After a while, they drifted off of the dance floor, legs tired and eyes a little less empty, until they stood on the sidelines where they had started. 

They would never be satisfied, but that was alright. Alexander and Eliza were happy. 

That was all that mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is what happens when I get really into Hamilton and then see some drawings of these two dancing in the middle of the night, apparently. I have actual chaptered stories to work on, plus my NaNo book, but my brain just wouldn't let this go. I'm sorry.


End file.
